Life Goes On
by hjaltalin's owl
Summary: Snapshots in the lives of the human warriors. Sequel to Starclan Academy, the high school au. Joint effort with SweetDragonSeeker.
1. Through the Glass

**Owl: So here is the long awaited sequel that we promised. More to come soon. **

**Seeker: Owl's working on the next chappie as we speak. So enjoy. **

**Owl: Tell us what you think; we're looking into making these longer and more detailed than in Academy, and want your opinions. Also, there may be some triggers, and we'll warn you about those at the top of the page. Any strictly mature stuff will be posted strictly to tumblr, and we'll let you know about that too. **

**Seeker: Suggestions always welcome; so are questions. XD So review! Also, this chapter is the sequel (of sorts) to the first of the Graduation Arc on Academy. **

**OvO**

Dustpelt had always sworn to himself that he wouldn't pace. Pacing was for stupid tv shows and those silly books that Ferncloud read and he pretended not to love. He'd promised himself that he wouldn't be like that. So now, he wasn't sure what he was supposed to do. He might settle for beating his head against the waiting room vending machine. He should be in the delivery room, holding Ferncloud's hand and petting her sweaty hair, but by the time he'd gotten Ashfur's call and managed to get out of work, they'd already had her in surgery. Emergency C-section; the baby's umbilical cord had gotten wrapped around its neck, and they couldn't wait any longer to deliver. Ashfur had gone in with her, but the room had been too small to admit Dustpelt as well, and as panicky as he was- not to mention how dirty and unsterile he looked- the doctor had requested that he wait outside.

The vending machine idea was starting to sound better and better.

A nurse padded into the room, and he leapt up from his chair at once, nearly pouncing on her in his urgency for news.

"Where is my wife? Is she alright? Is the baby?"

The nurse cowered. Dustpelt was not a small man, and at the moment he was covered in dirt, and oil from work, and one of his hands was drenched in dried blood; he had been worried enough the last few days about Ferncloud's false labor pains, almost three months early, that he'd asked Ashfur to keep an eye on her and call him if anything happened while he was at work. He'd had his hands buried in the undercarriage of an ancient Toyota today when his phone had gone off, and he'd jerked them out too fast in his hurry to answer it, cutting three of his fingers on a jutting piece of metal. He hadn't bothered to clean up before jumping in his truck and heading to the hospital.

The nurse took a cautious step back. Her nametag read 'Echosong.'

"I don't know, sir; but I can find out." She added quickly. "What's your wife's name?"

"Ferncloud."

"I'll be right back; I'm sure she's fine." She assured in a soothing voice, and scurried from the room.

That's when Dustpelt started pacing. He ran his hands through his hair. He collapsed back into his chair and tried not to tear his hair out or scream. He was probably scaring the other people in the waiting room, but he couldn't have cared less about them.

"Sir?"

His head jerked up. A doctor stood in the doorway this time, looking too clean to have just performed surgery of any kind, but that didn't stop Dustpelt from bouncing to his feet at once.

"Are you Dustpelt?"

Dustpelt nodded.

"My name is Barkface; I was the one who performed your wife's surgery." The doctor explained.

"How is she?"

The doctor smiled.

"She's just fine; she's resting now. You-"

"And the baby?" Dustpelt interrupted hurriedly.

The doctor hesitated now.

"The baby will be fine."

"Will be?"

"Your son was born almost three months early, sir; he's roughly three pounds and a new born should weigh in between five and seven. He'll need to remain in the hospital for some time until we can be sure all of his organs are fully formed and operating correctly and he gains some weight. You see, what happened was his umbilical cord got wrapped around his neck, causing stress on your wife's body inducing early labor. However, it looks as though he'll be just fine. We were able to unwrap it and successfully deliver." He gestured down the hall with a tilt of his head. "Would you like to see them?"

He nodded, vigorously.

"Please."

He almost stepped on the poor man several times in his hurry to reach his wife and child. Finally, after the third or fourth time, Barkface stepped aside and gestured down the hall.

"Room 113. Go on."

Dustpelt didn't so much as hesitate, almost sprinting down the hall. He slowed only when he reached the door, and pushed it open carefully.

"Ferncloud." He was at her side in a moment, casting a grateful glance to Ashfur before transferring all of his focus to his pale wife. "You okay, baby?"

She looked at him, her fingers squeezing his where he'd wrapped both hands around one of hers. Her green eyes were a little foggy and unclear.

"The baby?" she asked woozily. "Is the baby..?"

Dustpelt leaned in, pressing a kiss to her forehead.

"The baby's fine." He cast his eyes up at Ashfur as he said it, and his brother-in-law's eyes twinkled with a mixture of relief and exhaustion as he tilted his chin at something behind Dustpelt's shoulder. Turning his head slightly, Dustpelt saw an incubator standing against the wall, his tiny son squirming inside.

"See." He murmured, moving aside so that she could see the baby as well. "He's right there."

She relaxed a fraction as she focused on the baby's shape beyond the glass, and she asked,

"Is it a-?"

"Boy." Dustpelt murmured, remembering how the doctor had said 'son.' "It's a boy."

She smiled, blinking her gaze back to him, and he dropped to his knees beside the bed, resting his cheek on the sheets. Ashfur leaned in to kiss his sister's pale cheek.

"What're you gonna call him?" he asked. Dustpelt looked back at the tiny baby boy, and knew Ferncloud was doing the same.

"Larchkit?" she asked him softly, and he felt her eyes on him now. He smiled, eyes moving to meet hers.

"Larchkit."

**OvO**

**Reviewwww! XD ~Owl & Seeker**


	2. The Funeral

**Owl: This is a sequel to the chapter 'Recruitment' in Starclan Academy, and was the first chapter conceived for Life Goes On. **

**Seeker: I cried. It made me so sad… *sniffles***

**Owl: I'm sorry in advance for all tears, but this is probably one of the best things I have ever wrote. **

**Seeker: So read and review, yeah? As usual, we don't own it. :'( **

**OvO**

The gunshots echoed in his ears. Blackfoot couldn't even hear his own heartbeat over them, them and screams of command. But he sure as hell could hear the sobs, sniffing, and whimpers of his oldest friends around him.

He wanted to reach out and comfort them, any of them, but he was frozen in his spot at the front of the crowd. His gaze narrowed in on one spot, a spot he would never forget no matter how much he drank that night like he planned. Like he had every night since he got the news.

The gun shots stopped, and someone was talking about honor and respect, but Blackfoot couldn't hear what it was exactly; everything was muted to him. He couldn't even feel the pressure on his hand from where his wife was squeezing his fingers, whether to comfort him or herself he didn't know.

Blackfoot felt a hand brush against his shoulder; he just thought it was someone behind him smoothing out his suit. Why someone would do something like that at a time like this he didn't know. It wasn't until Littlecloud, who was standing next to him, whispered in his ear about a general that he could bring himself to try to focus on the world around him.

A man was walking towards them, and Blackfoot barely had enough strength to look away from the casket before him. The man looked familiar, like a face he wanted to forget. The face that took away his best friend. The man knelt in front of where Blackfoot and Tawnypelt sat; her grip on his hand tightened before letting go. The General reached out and handed Blackfoot the flag that had draped across the casket not long ago. Blackfoot took it and held it gently, caressing the material. He couldn't look at it for very long; the flag meant that this was real, and he couldn't accept what was happening for anything but the nightmare it became.

"… Please accept this flag as a symbol of our appreciation for you loved one's honorable and faithful service." General Cedarstar said, saluting the group of friends. A steady drum beat began to play as they lowered the casket into the ground and everybody rose to stand, the officers and other marines saluting with the General. Blackfoot felt like every hint of happiness in his world fell with the box that held his best friend, his sister.

Blackfoot didn't know how long he stood there after the funeral had ended, all he knew was everybody had cleared out long ago and only those of his gang still stood in the field of graves. He lost count of how many people had offered him the clichéd "Sorry for you loss" or given their condolences, and he hated every one of them. He didn't need pity or sympathy, he just wanted Russetfur back.

"Hey, I got the car." Tawnypelt whispered, squeezing his hand once more. He hardly ever let go of it during the service, save for that one moment when he accepted the flag.

"Can I- Can I just- stay here for a little bit?" He asked slowly. He didn't want to crack just yet, not until he was in the safety of his house and bed.

"Yeah, Littlecloud and I will be waiting. Some of the others are going to The Moonpool in a little bit if you want to go." Tawnypelt told him before turning to leave him alone. Blackfoot knew she had latched onto Littlecloud's shoulder as they walked towards the car.

Blackfoot stared at the headstone before him. It was black and marble; Tawnypelt designed it for Russetfur.

He just stood there, not saying anything, for what felt like days but was probably only a few hours. He remembered Littlecloud coming to check on him, but Blackfoot just sent him away. He didn't want to leave; if he could just stay here forever he would be fine with that.

Eventually Blackfoot came to enough to realize it was getting dark out. Blackfoot turned to see his wife and Littlecloud still back with the car, waiting patiently.

"I'll come see you tomorrow, Russetfur." Blackfoot said, turning back to the grave. He gently placed his hand on it before turning to walk shakily away.

"You ready?" Tawnypelt asked as he approached.

"Can we go to the bar? I think I need a drink?" He asked her softly.

"Yeah, all our friends are there now." Tawnypelt tried to reassure him, but Blackfoot just nodded, knowing the most important one wasn't.

0v0

Blackfoot frowned as he entered The Moonpool Bar. Everyone inside was solemn; grief was so thick he could cut it with his nails. A lot of people were there, even some who didn't even know Russetfur, like Firestar and Graystripe. There were drinks going around and almost no music for once.

"Hey guys, over here." Kinkfur called out to the small group as they walked in. They joined the table, but sat in silence, not knowing what to talk about. Speckle, one of the barmaids, brought beers for the newcomers before going back behind the bar, a small hint of sadness in her eyes as she watched the group. Blackfoot could feel the rest of the people staring at them and he wanted to scream at them for it.

"She took me to prom." Rowanclaw said suddenly, a drunken slur to hi-her voice. Her hair bow around her neck, she continued, "She wore her new uniform. She looked pretty hot."

"Rowanclaw's right. Russetfur wouldn't want us to sit around like geezers and be sad. We should reminisce on all of the good times." Flametail said from beside Littlecloud.

"I didn't say that." The red head muttered, confused.

"It was implied." Flametail replied, shrugging slightly and taking a sip of his drink; it spoke to how upset he was that he, who didn't usually like alcohol, was drinking at all.

So that's what they did. They told stories and laughed and remembered. Blackfoot even found it in him to tell about his and Russetfur's childhood together, all the times they'd gotten into trouble and played practical jokes on the neighbors. He hadn't thought he would be able to laugh, but the memories succeeded in bringing the ghost of a smile back to his face.

"I'll get the next round." He said at last and stood, ignoring the protest. He suddenly felt the need to get away form the table, the crowd, again for a while. He headed towards the bar, but instead of ordering he sat on a stool and laid his head down in his hands. He felt like he could sleep for days. A 'thunk' beside his head startled him. He opened his eyes to see a tall mug of beer before him.

"On the house." The soft voice came from above him. Looking up, he saw Ivypool, who had recently inherited ownership of the bar. "For your loss." She murmured.

"Thanks." He nodded at her. She just nodded back and left him to nurse the beer. Looking around the bar, he began to notice how much livelier it had become with more people talking about Russetfur and the good times they'd shared with her in the past.

He nodded his head at Boulder, Russetfur's combat buddy, who had done everything he could to save her and had taken off time for her service when his best hadn't been enough. He had been one of the people to carry her, Blackfoot briefly remembered. Dustpelt was in the corner with a few buddies, and shot him a brief, wan smile. Oakfur had joined the table with his friends, and was hanging off of Rowanclaw. While they all grieved for the loss of their friends, they were still able to find a little happiness in her memories, and as long as she was remembered Blackfoot could be happy. He stood suddenly and cleared his throat, getting everybody's attention.

"For Russetfur." He yelled, raising his beer up, and everybody in the bar followed suit. Boulder even called out her old nickname 'Red' with the group. Blackfoot listened to the chanting of his best friends name and smiled- truly smiled- for the first time since he got the news.

**OvO**

**Review! ~Seeker & Owl **


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